“Mais qui piqua ce triangle dans ma tête?
Ce triangle né du clair de lune
me traversa sans me toucher
avec des bruits de libellule
en pleine nuit dans le rocher.
Who put this triangle in my head?
This triangle born of moonlight
went through me without touching me
making the noise of a dragonfly
deep in the rock at night.”
—From John Berger’s The Shape of a Pocket
